Too Late
by ItsAStrangeDay
Summary: In a world where Ana is tired of being a nonexistent part of her marriage. Cheat/NO HEA Four Parts/Complete
1. Part One: Ana

**Part One: Ana**

Ana sat across from him in the intimate little restaurant, the glass of wine cooling her hot palm.

"I don't know what to order," he murmured more to himself than to her, running his fingertips along his jaw as he stared intently at the menu in his hands.

"The tuna here is delicious. One of my favorite meals," she said with a shrug, half offering it as a way of a suggestion as she folded her menu back up and set it down in front of her. That was what she ordered when she came here with Kate. When she came with Christian, he always ordered them the lamb, which was delicious, but not as good as the tuna.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking up at her, his eyes sparkling, matching the perfect teeth showing as he smiled.

She smiled, nodding.

"Well, I trust your judgement, Ana," he said with a simple finality, folding his own menu and placing it on the table in front of him. The waiter took his cue, sliding in front of the table to take the orders. Ana was almost shocked when Matt gave the waiter a pleasant smile, requesting two tuna entrees and a refill on the wine.

He ordered them their entrees, having taken her advice about what sounded good. He thanked the waiter kindly, sending him off with an appreciative smile. His eyes met Ana's once they were alone again, a blush creeping across her cheeks as he smiled at her in admiration.

She and Matt had been working closely together for a couple of months now. She'd convinced Christian to take on another publishing company, buying them out and merging them with Grey Publishing. He'd been unsure, but she'd insisted, saying she knew the company, knew the employees and the clientele and knew that if only they had different owners, the place would flourish. The only reason Heart Publishing had been struggling was because the owner didn't care. She was the widow of Evan Heart, the man who had started the company based off a whim and a love of books thirty years ago. But Mrs. Heart didn't share her husband's love of literature, and when he passed, Heart Publishing felt the hit of being run by someone lacking passion for the business. Ana wanted to save it, save the employees, save the spirit Heart Publishing once held. So in the end, Christian had agreed. He'd bought it and handed it over to his wife/CEO of Grey Publishing to manage. And so she'd been doing just that. She'd kept on most of the staff, working closely with Matthew Jameson, the Editor in Chief of the newly acquired company.

And he'd been so easy to work with. He was beyond grateful for the opportunity to help revitalize the company he loved. He'd risen through the ranks, becoming Editor in Chief two years ago when he was just thirty-two. His love and passion for the business rivaled her own, and Ana found herself jealous that he'd maintained an active hand in actual editing, while she had been relegated to business management at GP. All she'd ever wanted to do was edit, and she'd spent very little time doing that before Christian had thrust her into the position she now held.

"We got Adrian Amaro," Matt said nonchalantly, just a beat after the waiter had delivered their food, like it was an afterthought.

Ana froze, fork midway to her lips as she tried to make sense of the words he'd just spoke. She must have heard them wrong. Because even if they'd been true, he should be shouting it from the rooftops, not quietly muttering it to her across the table. Adrian Amaro was the hottest sought after author out there right now. He'd been shopping his work everywhere, but everyone knew he would end up at one of the big-name houses where he would be awarded the most money. GP just couldn't offer him that at this time, not to the extent he wanted. So, while she and Matt had pitched to him a brilliant presentation about why their soulful company was the best place for Mr. Amaro to land, Ana hadn't held any real stock in the idea that he'd sign with them.

Her eyes locked on Matt's, his lips slowly spreading into a small smile, then a full blown grin as she sat dumbfounded across from him.

"We… got Adrian Amaro," Ana stated more than asked.

The silly enthusiastic nod she received from him reminded her of a bobble head. It was laced with such pure excitement.

"We. Got. Adrian. Amaro."

"Oh my God," Ana breathed out, standing up and launching herself into Matt's arms. "I can't believe it! When did you find out?"

"Today. He called. Said he was sick of being pitched to based off of spreadsheets and financial reports. He wanted his baby to be loved, and he just knew we were the ones to love her."

"I can't believe you snagged him, Matt. You're amazing!"

"No _me_. **We** , Ana."

"No. I just helped finesse the details. You came up with the whole pitch. Your passion for this job is what attracted him. Me? I am the business side of this company. I represent everything the big companies do. But you- you're the heart, and that's what attracted him to us."

It was then that Ana saw Sawyer from the corner of her eye, a small frown marring his normally stoic features. His eyes flicked back and forth between Ana and Matt, and that was when she'd realized she was still so close to him, hands locked on his forearms, bodies mere centimeters away.

Smoothly she pulled back, making it seem casual that she was ever there in the first place.

That hug had meant nothing.

Wrong.

That hug had meant everything. That hug had put ideas in Ana's head. That hug had Ana thinking about Matt constantly. While at work. While at home. While in bed with her husband. Ever since meeting him, she'd thought about Matt. But before that hug, she'd been able to explain it away as friendly admiration. But something clicked that day in the restaurant. Something that shifted her outlook on him to something much less innocent. Matt was kind. He was sweet and fun and so very easy going. She was able to relax with him, truly be herself in a way she hadn't ever been able to before. He understood her. He respected her.

And he was handsome. God, was he _handsome_. The phrase 'tall dark and handsome' was invented for Matt. He towered over her, built solid but lean with tan skin and dark brown hair. He had beautifully intense dark eyes and a cut jaw that induced more than several fantasies about running her tongue across it.

So yes, that hug was no plain hug. That hug was the catalyst everything- for her feelings- for why she was currently awake at one in the morning, sitting in her hotel room, contemplating knocking on Matt's door, just one room over.

Over and over she played out the last miserable years of her marriage in her mind. She played out Christian's coldness, his aloofness. She mulled over the possibility of him having had an affair, maybe with a submissive, maybe with someone with whom he'd given more. Whether or not he'd been intimate with anyone, he'd certainly, at the very least, had an emotional affair with Elena. And the idea of him loving Ana anymore seemed very improbable.

Slowly her twirled her wedding ring around her finger, thinking about what it meant, the promises it represented. But their life was not the fairy tale it had seemed to be the day Christian placed this on her finger. It was sad and pathetic. It was empty.

Sliding the rings off her finger, she set them on the night table to the left of her bed. Her bare toes pressed into the floral carpeted hallway floor as she walked the ten or fifteen feet to the next room. She took a deep, cleansing breath before knocking on the door with the big, gold '502' on the front.

It took a moment, but Matt grunted as he opened the door, finding Ana standing there, her body clad in a matching rose gold silky camisole and short set, her hair cascading over her right shoulder, her bottom lip trapped between her perfect white teeth.

No words were spoken. His eyes widened and darkened. His posture straightened. His pants grew tight.

He reached for her hand, took it gently, and led her into his room, closing the door softly behind them. His hands sunk into her hair, his palms framing her face, his lips latching onto hers gently but firmly. He was equal parts aggressive and tender, and the balance was immediately panty-dampening for her. She kissed him back, tongues joining the mix, groans filtering in and out as their hands started to gently pull at chests, hips, breasts, and thighs. He was all consuming in that moment, in a way she hadn't felt in so long with her own husband. She wanted more, and he could sense it right away. He led her to his bed, laying her down, letting out a contented sigh as he murmured sweet words in her ear.

" _I've wanted this since the moment I laid eyes on you."_

" _You're the most incredible woman I've ever met."_

" _You're perfect in every way."_

" _Let me make love to you…"_

"Ana, I think I need to resign," he said, his hands clenched tight on his knees.

Ana felt her heart drop to her stomach. "What? _Why_?" she said, standing from her desk and coming around to sit next to him. His head hung down, his face pointed to the ground. His dark brown hair was uncharacteristically messy, a few strands falling forward onto his forehead. His jaw was dusted with day old stubble, but that wasn't unusual. Ana was used to Christian always being clean shaven, but she'd noticed that Matt liked to go a few days between, letting the manly scruff build up a little bit before shaving it back down.

"Because of us," he breathed out, looking up at her, the look in his eyes as if he was in physical pain. His eyes were always dark, but when he was really emotional, she always noticed they seeped into puddles of almost black.

"Us?" she squeaked out, horrified.

He sighed, a deep, heavy sigh, "I've fallen in love with you, Ana," he said with such heavy sincerity it twisted her insides.

"Matt—I-," she stuttered. Matt was in love with her. Matt, the sweetest, most genuinely nice guy she'd ever had the pleasure of meeting was in love with _her_. They'd promised each other after that night in the hotel that it was a onetime thing. They were good friends, and they both loved their jobs, and they didn't want things to get awkward. So they would just pretend it never happened.

But again and again it happened.

Again and again they found themselves locked in each other's embraces, mouths fused, hands hurriedly tearing at clothing, bodies joining over and over and over again. Suddenly she found more reasons for out of town conferences, sneaking out of their respective rooms when her CPO had settled in for the night. And when that wasn't often enough, they started doing it in her office. Her thirst for him was unquenchable. Meetings devolved into grope fests which devolved into them making love on her chair, on her desk, on the sofa….

So they'd made new promises. Promises to keep it physical. She was married. And not just married, but married to Christian Grey, one of the most powerful men in the country.

"I know. We said it was just physical. I know that you're married and I know we said we this wouldn't become more than sex, but it has for me. If I'm honest, it always has been. I've had feelings for you for months and that's why I can't stay working here. I can't be around you every single day, falling more and more in love with you, knowing there can never be a chance for us. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met. You're so smart and so kind. You're caring and compassionate and generous and I didn't think people like you- ones so pure and just genuinely good even existed in this world. Yet, here you are, in front of me every day being effortlessly amazing and I just can't—"

And without a thought as to the ramifications of her actions, Ana launched herself at him, her lips desperate to convert his words into something physical. All those things he'd said, all those sweet, sweet words, and not one of them was about something as superficial as her looks- the only thing her own husband ever seemed to compliment her on. Never did he say he was floored by her intellect. Never did he point out her compassion as a positive attribute. If he mentioned anything about her personality at all, it was with condescension at her naiveté. He loved her lips, her hair, her eyes, her body, but he never told her he loved her mind, her spirit. He often belittled her for such things, calling her childish, constantly chastising her smart mouth, making her feel inferior for every piece of herself that made _her_ **her**.

There was a time she'd lived and breathed for her husband, but these few long years had not been kind to their marriage. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. When they'd gotten engaged, he'd promised to cut back on his work hours after the wedding, that he just had things to settle before that could happen. But days, weeks, months went by and she found herself miserably lonely most evenings, often going to bed alone while he remained at GEH or holed up in his study. Finally, she'd begun to beg him to let her work after four torturously long months sitting in their Escala penthouse, day in and day out, miserable and alone.

When he refused over and over again, she casually mentioned being a stay-at-home wife would at least be nice for when they had children. He'd clammed up at her statement, and ignored her for a whole day before he admitted to her that he would never want children. She was fine waiting if he needed time, but the idea of never being a mother was devastating to her. So she tried to discuss it with him, just to help him over his fears for the future. But he became enraged anytime she brought it up, 'putting his foot down' and closing the book on the subject.

She'd decided to forgo that idea for a while, but in the meantime picked back on up on the idea of working. She simply could not stay locked in his ivory tower any longer. In a moment that she wasn't proud of, she gave him the ultimatum, let her have her career or a baby, knowing he would choose the career. And he did. But not without daily reminders of how much it displeased him that she felt the need to find validation outside of him. Which of course she found ridiculous, seeing as her wanting to work had nothing to do with _him_.

The fights that had ensued because of it these topics immediately caused a rift in their honeymoon happiness, one that grew into a irreparable chasm the day she found out he had never stopped seeing his child molester, Elena Lincoln, a stipulation she'd made when accepting his marriage proposal. When Ana found out, she confronted him, but he immediately defended Elena. Unapologetically, tooth and nail he fervently defended everything about that horrible woman, instead putting down _Ana_ for daring to say anything bad about his supposed savior.

After a time, Elena started approaching her at various functions, even having the gall to approach her at Grace and Carrick's house, belittling and berating her over and over. In the beginning, Ana tried to tell Christian about it, but he never believed her, always taking Elena's side. Ana learned to ignore Elena after a while, choosing to at least not give her the benefit of her emotions when they had their little run-ins. And she stopped even telling Christian about them- what was the point? It was all just another nail in the coffin on their happiness as a couple. If she had to pinpoint a situation that caused her to really start to give up on her marriage, it was the repeated defensive attitude he took regarding Elena. Her life was a swirl of arguments about children and their respective careers, but at the end of the day, it was his undying defense of Elena that had her shutting down. With time, she stopped arguing, stopped fighting, stopped _caring_.

Finding her job in publishing came at just the right time, allowing her to shift her attention from him to the career she'd always longed to have. But she'd been an editor's assistant for all of three weeks before the company she worked for was sold to Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc. and she was appointed the new CEO. He hadn't even warned her. She left work an assistant one evening and returned a CEO the next day, informed of the change by her boss-turned-subordinate, Jerry Roach. Christian had ignored her incessant phone calls all day, screening her and sending her to Andrea every time. She'd intended to rip into him that evening, instead. She was going to tell him no, _refuse_ the position, refuse to leave the position she already had, the one she wanted, the one she loved.

But he didn't even bother coming home that evening. She'd ended up falling asleep in the guest bedroom after angry, hysterical sobbing had drained her of all of her energy. When she woke up in the middle of the night, she remembered her intended rampage and flew out of bed to confront him. See he was in his study as usual, she was about to barge in and raise hell when she heard him on the phone—

" _I did what you suggested, and appointed her the new CEO today. Her PPO informed me she was irate. I stayed at the office until she fell asleep in order to avoid the fight I'm sure is brewing."_

A voice broke through the speaker on the phone on his desk. Ana felt her stomach churn at the well-known voice of her husband's abuser.

" _Good darling. I give it a month tops and she'll be begging you to let her come back home. She'd not cut out for high-level management. You'll have her back home in no time, and with a newfound respect for what you do day in and day out. You just need to keep the pressure on her. Hand her tasks you know she'll fail at. She'll come crawling back to the luxurious life you've provided in no time, begging you to let her stay home and finally appreciating what you do for her."_

" _I hope you're right. Thanks again, Elena."_

She walked away from his office, a new sense of determination to succeed coursing through her veins. Knowing that her own husband was planning her failure with her worst enemy had left her more incensed than she'd ever been in her life. As a result, she'd thrown herself into her role at the now renamed Grey Publishing and worked fiercely to complete the near impossible tasks Christian handed down to her, refusing to give up, refusing to fail.

Her respect for her husband waned to nil, and with it, her fight, her passion for any part of _them_. The more she pushed back against him and his rules, the crueler he became. She took every GP task head on, burying herself in as much work as possible, still spending long hours at the office, and working from home so often her days bled from one to the next like a blurry Monet. She even found herself enjoying it, mostly because she had proved her husband wrong and had survived, thrived even, where he had been so sure she would crash and burn. It wasn't her dream job, wasn't even the job she wanted, but she was going to do it successfully.

With this new successful career as well as her new found self-confidence to occupy her time, she stopped begging her husband to see John Flynn again. She stopped begging him to see Elena. She stopped begging him to cut back on his work hours. With no desire left to fight for her husband's affection and attention, she took on a new even-tempered approach at home, giving in to his demands just to keep the peace in the house, just to make it through one more evening until she could curl up in bed and sleep.

She'd been systematically emotionally broken by him, their fire and passion long since extinguished.

Stuck in a marriage that felt like a prison sentence, she wondered if she would ever gain enough courage to request a divorce. But Christian would surely bury her, ruin her life. It was clear to her that their intense love had been like a fireworks display on Independence Day- it had burned brightly and beautifully, but only for a short time. And all she was left with was the deafening silence ringing in her ears. There was no way he was happy in this marriage either. He couldn't love her. He seemed to hate her, now. Did he _ever_ love her?

But Matt, he was the opposite of Christian Grey. His affection and attention had filled a gaping hole inside of her. She stopped living monotonously day in and out. Instead, she felt alive for the first time since college. She was excited to wake up and go to work, to keep furthering her success at GP and spend her days working with Matt. He was supportive and kind, generous and sweet. He radiated positivity, boosting Ana's self-esteem instead of forcibly crumbling it between his hands. He was everything Ana desired in a man, and her life had been light for the first time in years ever since he'd walked into it.

Yes, she was married. And yes, she was scared to ask for a divorce from her husband. She hadn't had a good enough reason to, until now. Not knowing all it could cost her. Not when her diminished self-esteem told her that her own happiness wasn't a good enough reason to leave. But if she wanted to be with Matt, she would have to face the firing squad. Yes, Christian would probably ruin her life, but she had to try and get away from him before he broke her completely. She had to try and find her happiness again.

And that happiness was with Matt.

"I'm falling in love with you too," she whispered, feeling his arms tighten around her at the revelation.

"You are?" he asked, astonished, and thrilled, the smile on his face the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

She nodded, a radiant smile on her face for the first time in so long. Everything else be damned, this was what she deserved.


	2. Part Two: Christian

**Part Two: Christian**

Christian sighed as he got in the back seat of his Audi, Taylor at the wheel as usual. Another day, another quiet ride home, to Escala, where he lived with his wife.

He scoffed softly to himself. His _wife_. The notion of calling her his wife seems preposterous. His wife was a smart mouthed, intelligent, funny, kind, beautiful, sexy woman. The woman who lived in his home day in, day out, was a quiet, docile, indifferent woman. She smiled but it never reached her eyes, she nodded in acquiescence to his requests, she never looked into his eyes anymore, never gave him any sign that she was happy, that she was in love. She was a puppet. Worse than a submissive, she was lifeless.

He _hated_ it.

He hated _himself_.

Because he made her like that. He beat down her spirit and turned her into this shell of herself. He missed her. He desperately missed the woman he fell in love with. He wanted to bring that woman back, but he had no idea how.

Everything he did seemed to backfire. When Ana had first told him she wanted to work, he was actually offended. He worked his fingers to the bone to provide for her. She had everything she could ever want. Hell, she could set it all on fire and rebuy it thousands of times over! So why the hell did she need an insignificant little publishing job? It didn't make sense to him. Unless… she had mentioned something about doing this because he was never around. And he had promised her to cut back on his hours, despite the fact he'd yet to do it. Was that all this was? A cry for his attention? He didn't know. He didn't know anything about relationships! He needed advice!

He hadn't known what to do, what to think, so he'd decided to confide in his closest friend- the one person who knew him best, who he trusted to give it to him straight. And when he'd asked Elena her opinion about it, she had taken his side immediately validating that he was right- it was asinine for Ana to want to work. Elena helped him see that Ana was trying to exert control over him. She knew she didn't need to work, she was just trying to gain independence. And then Elena proceeded to explain to him how independence was a ticking time bomb for a marriage. _"If she's already pulling away from you, this soon into the marriage, it will only spell disaster for you in the future unless you nip it in the bud. And you simply cannot give into her demands about cutting back on hours. She knew who you were and what your job entailed when you got married. She should be at home waiting to cook you dinner every night, massaging your feet and thanking her lucky stars you give her the time of day. Don't let her manipulate you, Christian_."

With renewed confidence that he was doing the right thing, he refused to let Ana work.

But then she brought up _children_. The idea had sent him into full on panic mode, which sent him straight to the one person who would know exactly what to say to him.

When he'd told Elena that Ana was discussing children and how he knew he could never be a father, Elena had confirmed his suspicions by agreeing. _"Not everyone should have children. In fact, they are more of a nuisance than anything. You have all the money and power in the world, why would you want to be a slave to a bunch of little brats? Put a stop to her thoughts about this right now, Christian. Tell her you don't want them once and for all. She'll get over it. And one day she'll thank you for it. When she'd had the chance to travel the world and do whatever she wants, whenever she wants, she'll thank you for keeping her from making the poor decision to be a mother."_

Christian had again followed this advice, breaking the news to Ana the next day. But she had done what Ana always did- instead of listening to him and accepting that he knew best, she pushed him to see a therapist about his supposed 'self-loathing' and tried to urge him to change his mind. When he'd told Elena about her reaction, Elena had tutted, giving him a knowing look. _"She'll forget all about you if you have children. You'll lose your place in her life. You need to keep her close. She'll never love you the same. Your whole life will suffer. She'll be exhausted from the baby. There will be no time for the two of you. It will be her and that little crying-shit machine against the world. And forget about having a sex life. You'll be lucky if she pencils you in once a week!"_

Then she'd given him the ultimatum. Baby or job. It infuriated him, her giving him an ultimatum. No one gave him ultimatums. Another conversation with Elena convinced him that she was pulling away from him. If he didn't do something, he was going to lose the love of his life. And he couldn't lose her. He loved her with everything in him. He just didn't know how to handle these situations she was putting him in! He had no idea what the right answer was, so when Elena gave him her advice, he ran with it, trusting that she knew what she was talking about and, as his friend, would never steer him wrong. He and Ana were both new to this relationship thing. Both of them jumped into marriage with less than six months of commitment under their belts. Elena was shrewd. She may not exactly be partial to the idea of 'love', but he trusted that she was a keen enough and experienced enough to know what it took to make it work. But she wasn't living in his house. She wasn't dealing with Ana's unhappiness, Ana's anger, Ana's sadness every single day about these topics. So in a moment of weakness, he broke, and settled on the less of two evils. He allowed her to work.

Elena had been displeased by that, for sure.

" _Are you sure it's such a bad thing?" Christian asked, running his fingers through his hair? "She seemed so… happy. She's spent so much time being upset with me lately, it was nice to see her so happy…."_

" _Of course she was happy darling. She got her way. She got the great Christian Grey to bow to her demands. And now that she's done it once, she's going to think she can do it again and again. I'm telling you Christian, she's setting herself up for independence from you. And why would she need it? The only reason I can think is that she is playing the long game- anticipating needing to take care of herself someday. Someday when you're, perhaps, no longer around to take care of her. You said yourself she's been so unhappy lately…"_

" _So what do I do?" he asked, panicked now at the idea of Ana setting the stage to leave him._

The plan she'd come up with had been a brilliant one. Buy whichever company she started working for and put her in charge of it. His wife was smart, but she had no background in business management. She would fail if left at the helm of a publishing company. And when she did, she would come back to him. She would quit because it was too much, have a newfound respect for what he did, and be happy to be back home with him taking care of everything in their lives, including her. Sure, she might be a little down on herself for a while when she failed, but that would pass, and in the end, it would leave them in a place where they could flourish together.

When Ana didn't give up at work, he pushed near impossible tasks on her, trying to push her to fail. Eventually he cut back on the bullshit he heaped on her at work, realizing there was nothing her could do to break her and make her quit, and he was personally causing her to be away from home even longer, which was the exact opposite of what he'd been trying to do all along.

When that didn't work, at Elena's insistence, he began withholding affection from her. Their once witty and flirty interactions dwindled until they were non-existent. But instead of falling to her knees and begging for his attention, she too started turning her back on him and walking away, the way he now did. His light, bubbly wife slowly became a cold, empty shell. Desperate to see glimpses of her fire, he eventually began starting fights over things that he didn't even care about, just to try and get her to react to him at all. Though, it rarely worked.

But despite the poor results, the pattern repeated for years. Blindly, he followed Elena's advice. And for all of her efforts to bring them back together, Elena's advice had failed time and time again. None of it worked. All of it seemed to drive Ana further and further away from him. True, she was no longer fighting him on most things. If anything, she was _more_ amiable than ever. But she was also empty. He wanted her home, counting the minutes until he arrived so that when he walked in the door she would jump into his arms and he would take her to bed and worship her like she deserved. But instead, she would acquiesce to his various demands, always with the same curt nod and detached "Yes, Christian."

Even their love making, the one area they'd never suffered, he'd managed to turn into a cold, passionless endeavor. Under Elena's suggestion, he'd begun taking her strictly from behind in order to withhold intimacy from her. _"If you pull away from her, she'll come running back, desperate for your affection."_ She hadn't though. She closed off even more. He's resorted to either withholding or forcing orgasms from her for a while, trying to initiate a reaction, but she just went with the flow of whatever he did. Long gone were her looks of pleasure, her excitement, her ecstasy. In its place was her indifference, her apathy, her boredom. His wife became little more but a masturbatory tool for him to use. And she didn't even seem to care. She'd always just wait for him to finish, climb off the bed and head straight to the shower, never even looking at him anymore.

He was sinking fast. How did everything get so fucked?

Devastation lanced through him every day at the idea that she was no longer happy with him. He'd done everything Elena suggested to keep her close, and none of it worked. What else was he supposed to do? He loved his wife, and the last thing he wanted was to see her so miserable, but he just had no idea what he was supposed to do to fix things anymore.

When the SUV pulled into the parking space at Escala, he climbed out slowly, his emotions so battered that he was barely functioning anymore. He already knew what would await him once he got to the penthouse. He would see the light on under the library door, knowing Ana was in there working. There was a 50/50 chance she would join him for dinner, but it would be mostly silent. And at the end of the night they would go to bed, where he would wait for her to fall asleep so he could hold her and pretend everything was okay.

He was, however, surprised instead to see his wife sitting on the sofa when he exited the foyer, a glass of red wine in her delicate hand. She looked up at him, giving him a small smile. Subconsciously he knew it was a sad smile, but he was so elated to see his wife smiling and waiting for him that he blocked that fact out and instead let the tendrils of joy weave around in his chest. How many months had it been since she was waiting for him to come walking through the door? How many months had he desperately wanted her to?

He stripped himself of his suit jacket and tie, tossing them on the chair adjacent to them, then took the empty spot next to her on the couch.

"Hi," she said softly, looking him in the eyes for the first time in so long.

"Hi," he quickly replied, eating up her attention to him like a toddler.

She gave him a quizzical look, picking up a wine glass sitting on the table that he hadn't noticed, and handing it to him.

He took it with a sincere thank you, to which she replied with another small smile. Her smiles weren't even showing her teeth, but they were so beautiful. Something he hadn't seen in so long.

"We need to talk, Christian."

Her lips saying his name was like heaven to him. Talk, yes. They needed to **talk**. _Talk to your wife and fix this. She used to beg you to talk to her, and now, it's been months since your last real conversation. This is what you've been missing. This is what you've been needing to do. Talk to your wife, instead of talking to Elena_ about _your wife._ _No more. Tonight, you two will hash this out and start back on the right track. You will find a way to rebuild everything that's been broken. You two love each other and that's all that matters. You will find a way past this rough patch and back to each other._

"Yes, we do," he said eagerly.

"I'll start," she said, setting down her wine glass and rubbing her palms on the thighs of her skirt before clasping her hands together. "Things have been… bad lately." She looked at him, and he nodded slowly in confirmation, so she continued. "We aren't happy anymore. _I_ am not happy anymore," she said, pointing at her chest emphatically. "I am miserable in this marriage."

Christian felt his heart seize in his chest. They were painful words to hear, but they were the truth. She knew it, he knew it. They needed to start somewhere, and the truth was obviously the best, albeit most painful option.

"I know," he confirmed sadly.

"I can't be miserable anymore," she said with just heart wrenching honesty that it made his stomach turn. He was responsible for her misery. He had _purposely_ made her miserable trying to bring her to heel. And it had failed spectacularly. He could he ever redeem himself? They had a long road ahead, but he was willing to do anything to get his wife back to the person she was when they'd gotten married.

"I know," he nodded eagerly, letting her know he was on the same page. He would make sure things changed. He would make sure things got better.

"You were my first love, my first everything. And I will always cherish the memories we had-"

Dread washed over him, nearly knocking the breath from him.

That sounded like… that didn't sound like the talk of someone willing to work on the issues. But that only meant—

"We'll fix this, Ana," he said cautiously.

Her eyes widened, her head jerking back a little in surprise. Slowly her head shook back and forth. "No, Christian," was all she said, her voice barely audible.

He was off the couch in a second, down on his knees before her, his large hands taking her petite ones in a firm grasp. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no," he repeated quietly, desperately over and over, pressing his forehead into hers. Tears sprung to his silvery gray eyes, his voice deepening with the thickness of his emotion. "No please Ana don't leave me. I'm sorry. I _love_ you. Please don't—we can work on this. We can fix all of this if you just give me chance—" he pleaded, begged, beseeched with every ounce of sincerity he had in him.

Tears came to her blue eyes now, glimmering just over the top of her lower lid but not falling. "Oh Christian," she sighed softly, pulling her hands from his and using her thumb to wipe the streaks of wetness from his face. "It's too late," she said softly, apologetically, but firmly.

"No!" he cried out, his voice strangled in his throat. "It's not too late! How can it be too late? We're both here, we both want the same changes so it's **not** too late-"

"We both know this marriage has been irreparably broken for months. We've both been miserable. There's nothing redeeming about it anymore. All we do is fight, if we're even talking to each other, that is. You haven't wanted anything to do with me in months. We're not lovers, we're not friends. We're two individual people existing in the same space who can't even manage to scrounge up a pleasantry most days."

"Ana—what… what are you saying? Are you saying you want a—" he couldn't even say the word.

But she didn't seem to be suffering from the same affliction.

"A divorce, yes." He winced at the word, winced at her ability to say it with such certainty. "I'm only asking to put an official end to something that's been dead for months, Christian."

"But… I love you," he said, like this one true guiding fact eliminated logic of a divorce in their situation.

"Christian, the truth is, there was a time my whole world started and stopped at your feet. But now, all I want is to move on from this," she said, motioning between them.

He reared back away from her, her words like a slap across his face. She took the moment to lean forward and grab something off the table he hadn't noticed. A folder.

"Here's the paperwork I had my divorce lawyer draw up. I want this to be as amicable as possible. I'm not asking for much. I know we didn't sign a prenup, but I hope you know I truly never was interested in your money. I'd like to keep Grey Publishing, since I've spent a lot of time building it up to what it is now. But everything else- the money, the properties, etc, I'm not asking for any of it. So I'm hoping to just sail through all the legal aspects of this. The paperwork is already set, as long as you agree with my terms. You just need to sign," she rambled on details he didn't fucking care about, didn't want to think about, pointing out things on the paperwork like she was discussing everyday business.

He struggled to hold in the sob climbing up his throat.

"Please don't do this, Ana," he begged, causing her to look up at him again.

Her posture crumbled a little as she saw the look of desolation in his eyes.

"It's already done, Christian," she said simply, her eyes showing only gentle termination. "I'm done."


	3. Part Three: Elena

**Part Three: Elena**

Elena sat across from him, a smug smile on her face. Christian looked worse than she'd ever seen him. He was a mess, and she suspected she knew why; Ana must have left him.

When he head shifted so he could look up at her, her face morphed into a look of sympathy. "What's wrong, Christian?"

His head dropped back down in defeat and it sickened her. She hadn't spent all that time training him to be this weak little sycophant to a mousy brown nobody.

"Ana's gone," his mumble came as expected.

"I can't say I'm surprised. I knew it would never last. It was only a matter of time, darling. She's not like us. She could never understand what we are," she soothed. It was almost too easy with him. His trust and faith in her as a friend and a confidant were unbreakable. She'd actually been worried when little Miss Steele had come in like a whirlwind into his life. She'd managed to affect Christian in a way she hadn't seen since, well, _her_. There was a point where she thought she had lost him for good, until he confided in her that Ana had found out there were still seeing each other. She thought Christian would end their relationship that day, but instead he told her how he'd defended her against Ana's verbal massacres of her character, telling his little wifey that she could never understand what Elena truly did for him, and she would just have to get used to the fact that Elena was a fixture in his life.

That was when she realized she still had power over him. At night she laughed about how deeply her influence ran, how deep her claws were dug into her greatest accomplishment- Christian fucking Grey. She'd made him. She'd taken a broken, sullen, angry fifteen year old and transformed him into one of the country's- no, the _world's_ most successful and influential businessmen. And while he called the shots in every other aspect of his life, she called the shots with him. The power she felt when she wielded her position in his life was heady.

"Don't worry, dear. This feeling will pass. We'll get you back in your playroom and you'll be good as new again."

His eyes hit her, his forlorn look replaced with something hard.

"Is that what you think?" He asked, the rage thinly veiled and growing in his tone with every word. "That I can just fuck a submissive to forget all about my wife, the woman I loved with everything in me?"

Elena raised an eyebrow and the two stared at each other. "It's what you need, Christian. People like us are not meant for real relationships. We are not built for love. You are a Dominant. You built your empire being a strong, controlled, focused force of pure authority. Your _wife_ ," she said with disdain, "Was holding you back. She was siphoning your power and making your control less potent. She was ruining you, and now you're free of her."

Christian gaped at her, floundering for a second as the realization flooded his brain like a broken dam. "You did this on purpose," he muttered, watching her face for a sign of confirmation, but she'd practically invented the impassive look. Another of his amazing attributes that he owed entirely to her.

She'd accomplished what she'd set out to do. Anastasia was gone. It took everything in her not to laugh in unbridled joy. She'd won. But she had to play it off like she wasn't bursting at the seams with joy, so she let out a sympathetic sigh. "You don't know what you're talking about dear. This must all really be taking a toll on you, so I'll forgive the accusation. But don't let it happen again," she said, her tone suggesting she was wounded by his claim that she would so such a thing.

His eyes blindly flitted across the room, and he was starting to resemble the look of a cage animal. His hands were tugging at his hair so roughly she was getting wet with the thoughts of how harshly she used to tug on those same copper locks.

He started mumbling, his whole body tense. Slowly his voice got louder. "You did it on purpose. You gave me bad advice every step of the way. You knew it would drive her away. I trusted you. I trusted you to help me and you used it to manipulate me into ruining my marriage."

"Christian," she chided, but he cut her off, rearing up from the table to slam his fists down onto it.

"No! Tell me the truth! Admit it! Tell me you purposely gave me bad advice to drive Ana away! You never liked her! You never wanted me to be with her!"

"Oh cut the crap!" she yelled, snapping. Gone was her mock-offense. Gone was her sympathetic smile. Gone was her concern, her kindness, her compassion. In its place was the cold hard bitch he'd known behind dungeon doors. "She never deserved you."

"You're wrong! I never deserved her! But regardless, of what you thought, it shouldn't have mattered! I loved her! I was happy with her! I trusted you because I thought we were friends! I thought you would want me to be happy!"

"You were the shining example of what BDSM can do for a person, and you were throwing it all away for some little ninny. You came to me because you trusted me? Well then _trust me_ when I say you were better without her. She was a nothing, a nobody." She chucked, clicking her nails on the table in front of her, leaning back to slowly cross her bare legs. "I never wanted to be your _friend_ , Christian. I found you and trained you because I wanted to be your _Domme_. I did everything for you. Gave you **everything**. Even subbed for you. And what did I get in return? I got to watch you parade around with your line of brunettes," she scoffed. "But none of them were ever worth more than a fuck to you, so I knew one day you'd come back to me. But then you met _her_!" She uncrossed her legs again, leaning forward with a smug smirk on her face. Dropping her voice, she spoke gleefully. "But you made it easy for me. You let me walk alllll over her."

Christian clenched his fists at his side, his mind bombarded with all the times he's berated Ana for speaking ill of Elena. And she was right all along. He trusted Elena instead of trusting his wife, and now he was paying the ultimate price for it.

Elena let out a cackling laugh as she looked at his face shining with realization. "I treated that girl like shit on the bottom of my shoe, Christian. I put her down. I insulted her. I told her over and over again about how she wasn't good enough for you. I despised her and she knew it because I told her at every possible turn. I would corner her at events and such, when you weren't around, and tell her exactly what I thought of her. And she told you about it, eventually, and what happened Christian?" A look of recognition crossed his face, making Elena grin. "That's right, pet. You came and told me she was saying those things. And without me even having to utter a syllable to even try to deny them, you just assumed she was lying to try and get to cut me out of your life. You asked _me_ why she would lie about such a thing? Oh, darling, it was hilarious. It was then I knew how tightly you were wrapped around my little finger. And no matter how badly my advice seemed to turn out, you _just. kept. listening._ You treated her like trash for years! I can't believe she stuck around as long as she did. She must have really loved you to put up with being treated like a second class citizen by the man who supposedly loved her," she laughed, genuinely enjoying reliving the events she'd spoken of.

Christian gaped at her, unadulterated shock screaming from every pore in his body. He felt the overwhelming urge to vomit on the spot. It was all a lie. Everything Elena did and said was a lie, and everything Ana had ever been was pure and loving. And he'd never once given his wife the benefit of the doubt. He's blindly trusted Elena and as a direct result, he'd lost Ana for good. Or had he? Would she understand if he told her? She'd be furious that he'd taken all of his advice from Elena, but could she eventually get over that once she realized that pushing her away was never what he truly wanted, that all he wanted was to keep her close?

"I have to fix this," he muttered to himself.

Elena watched Christian's mind reeling as he desperately tried to come up with a plan. She laughed loudly when he inadvertently mumbled about fixing things.

"Oh Christian, you don't think she would take you back after you tell her the truth, do you? You think that once you admit that you came to me every single step of the way, sharing every intimate detail of your marriage with me when you didn't even _once_ discuss any of these things with _her_ , that she would ever see past that? You blew it Christian. It's over. She's gone. You treated her like shit, and at the insistence of her mortal enemy. You're toast."


	4. Part Four: The Finale

**Part Four: The Finale**

"You're sure?" He spat into his phone, questioning Welch as to the validity of the statement that he'd tracked Ana's phone to her and Kate's old apartment. He'd come home to Ana's suitcase and some of her clothes missing, and nothing to tell him where she'd gone. She'd refused to let Sawyer follow her, telling him she was no longer his concern since their marriage would be dissolving. When Taylor had uneasily delivered that information, it had gutted him for the millionth time in the last 24 hours. He tried to call her, but she wasn't answering her phone, so he'd had it traced.

He never would have expected her to be at her old apartment. No one stayed there. Kate had long since moved in with Elliot, the two blissfully content in their marriage, which only grew stronger with the addition of their daughter Ava. That old apartment was, as far as he knew, empty, except for sometimes being a place for Kate's brother Ethan to stay when he was in town from New York.

"Yes, sir," Welch confirmed.

Stepping on the gas to his R8, he hurried to get there. He had to try to do or say something to convince her they still had a chance. He didn't know what or how, but he had to try.

He pressed the button next to the nameplate that still read 'Kavanaugh/Steele', even after all this time, and waited for her to answer. Would she let him up? _What if she didn't let him up?_ His concern was short lived however, when the door buzzed and he was granted access without her even verifying who he was. It ignited a brief but intense flare of anger that she would just allow access to anyone without verifying their identity.

Don't let something so small cloud your mind right now, he warned himself. There was so much at stake here, everything was at stake. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted by anything. Ascending the stairs rather that waiting for the elevator, Christian felt the crashing waves of anxiety, fear, and tension as they roiled over and around him. His mouth was dry, his palms sweaty. He took an unsteady breath, preparing to knock on the door.

His mind flooded with memories of the times he'd been here in the past, knocking on the same door, watching it open to reveal the young, beautiful woman he would unknowingly one day call his wife. He could still picture the sweet smile and excited glint in her eyes whenever she'd open the door to reveal him waiting for her. He'd been a lucky man, then, to have her attention, even when he'd, now ashamedly, believed she should be the one to count herself lucky that she was getting his time and attention. She'd always been in jeans and t-shirts then, mostly free of makeup, but a true natural beauty. She'd been fresh faced, just out of college, and he'd taken her into his whirlwind life and lavished her with expensive gifts and trips and experiences.

Over time she'd slowly changed. She'd matured, and though she was still young and very beautiful, she was polished, always with designer clothing, high end spa styled hair. She carried herself with confidence now, backed by legitimate pride in her ability to excel in her chosen career. She wasn't the same girl who used to answer this door for him, but he was okay with that. He was immensely proud of the woman she'd become, though he wasn't sure he'd ever told her that. Had he? Had he ever told her that he was impressed with how she handled herself professionally? Even though he'd intentionally tried to get her to fail at her job, she never did. She'd always succeeded. And even though it had done the opposite of what he'd been trying to do at the time, which was to keep her home, he also had to admit that he was impressed and proud of her for handling it all.

But no, he'd never told her that.

He knew the woman who would be answering the door would be that smart, successful, more mature woman who he'd neglected for far too long.

He swallowed back a lump in his throat, hoping that today he'd get the chance to tell her all of the things he'd never told her. Praise her for everything she'd ever done right, and apologize for everything he'd ever done wrong.

He'd tell her, promise, swear to whoever was listening that if she just gave him one more chance, he would be the man who helped her up, who encouraged her, who supported her. He would be the husband she deserved, one who always did everything, made every decision based off of her best interests first. He would only ever build her up, never tear her down. He could be, would be that man for her, for every moment from now on, for the rest of their lives.

And it wouldn't stop with supporting her career. He would cut down on his hours at work to spend real, quality time with her. He would be home every evening for dinner, and slip into their bed every night to hold her while they slept. He would be off weekends. No more business trips unless they were absolutely necessary. And vacations! They would take vacations where he would shut off his phone and just be with her, really be with her.

He'd never turn her into a cold fuck again. He'd always cherish her body. Make love to her. Praise every inch of her and make her nerves sing with pleasure.

And children. A baby. If she wanted a baby, or even two. He'd give her children. He'd make love to her, make a child with her out of their love. He'd kiss her bump every day as it grew, let her crush his hand while she was in labor, and coo to whatever little bundle they placed in his arms when it was over.

Whatever it took. Whatever she wanted. It would be hers.

He clenched his jaw, completely steeling himself with the resolve that from this day forward, everything would be Ana. His life would be for hers.

Then he knocked. And the door opened. But it wasn't Ana who answered it.

A man. A shirtless man.

"Pizza?" the man said, and the word sounded foreign. Pizza?

Christian just stared at him, his mind feeling like it was on a delay. A man. There was a man standing in the apartment where Ana was supposed to be. And he wasn't wearing a shirt. And he said, 'Pizza?' Christian felt like he was trying to think, but his brain was made of thick molasses. Man. No shirt. Pizza.

Suddenly the man, whose brain didn't seem to be suffering the same sluggish fate, gave him a look of recognition. "Not pizza," he whispered. Then he looked nervous.

"Ana?" he called back into the apartment, over his shoulder.

And just like that, the lag in Christian's brain surged into sudden overdrive.

 _Ana._

Her name on this man's lips, this shirtless man's lips, said so much.

What was this? Was this the first time? A one time sexial liason with a random man? Was she having a fling? Or was it… more?

As if he wasn't facing an uphill battle as it was, trying to win back her trust and affection after years of treating her poorly, now he was faced with the sudden, strangling idea that there was way more to it than. If this man was more for her, if she had feelings for him, then Christian wasn't just fighting their past to get her back, he was fighting a different future she already saw for herself. And that future was standing right in front of him, and he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Christian saw red, though he didn't even move a muscle. And then Ana came into view, turning the corner that he knew led to the bedrooms, wearing nothing but a man's dress shirt.

The missing shirt.

Christian felt his gut pinch and roil. They'd been intimate. This man had had his hands on Ana's body. He'd touched his wife, kissed her, made love to her.

Ana paused only momentarily when her eyes met his, before she slowly began to close the gap between them. He fixated on the shirt, which was buttoned just enough that it stayed together at her torso but hung precariously open at the chest, exposing her delicate collarbones and a touch of her cleavage. That's where his eyes were lingering when she crossed her arms over her chest, like she felt uncomfortable with him seeing her this way. _Him_. Her **husband**.

"Ana?" he asked, his voice holding none of the anger he felt, but all of the desperation.

"Christian," she said, her voice oozing sympathy. "What are you doing here?"

"I came-" he paused, swallowing thickly. He stepped into the apartment and shut the door. "I came to apologize for everything." His eyes darted to the man who had backed off, but was still standing on the other side of the room, making no effort to offer them any privacy. In fact, he was watching Christian intently, his body tense, like he was ready for action at a moment's notice. Christian ignored him, turning back to give Ana his full attention. "I made a lot of mistakes, but the biggest mistake I could ever make would be to let you go without a fight."

Ana sighed. "I already told you earlier, Christian. It's _over_."

He closed the gap between them quickly, reaching for her hand, but she flinched and took a step back. He froze not wanting to upset her. "If this is about…" he trailed off, glancing at the other man again. "We can work through all of our issues, anything. We can work through them, Ana. We can find a way to fix everything. I can overlook one mistake-"

The man scoffed,and Christian felt the anger surge through him. He reared up, and turned toward the guy, but Ana immediately cut in before he could really do or say anything.

"Matt," she said sweetly. The sound of his name on her lips rang loudly in his brain. There was so much in the way she said his name. Familiarity. Affection. The nuances were reminiscent of how she'd said his name...before. He knew then that this was no one time thing, and he knew then that he would remember the exact tone, the exact cadence of her voice when she said _his_ name out loud, and it would play like a record in his brain for the rest of his life. "Can you give us a minute, please?"

He could tell it bothered this prick to leave, but he listened, shooting Christian what seemed to be a warning glare as he turned to leave. He was being possessive of her. Possessive of _his_ **wife.**

Normal, everyday Christian would tear every last fucking thing in this apartment apart and then light it all on fire right now in order to adequately express his rage over the fact that his wife was sleeping with another man, and that that man was standing here before him, trying to stake a claim on her. But today, he wasn't normal, everyday Christian. Today, he was barely hanging on, desperate and scared.

"Ana, baby," he said, his voice a plea, closing the gap between them, gently taking her face in his hands. "Whatever happened, we can get through it. I know I did so many things to hurt you, I see them all now. But I love you. I have always loved you and I will always love you and I can't bear the thought of life without you. I will be better for you. I promise. I will live and die by you. You will be my only priority. I swear, baby. Please just… don't leave me. Please, please," he whispered, his eyes welling with thick tears, his voice hoarse. He pulled her to him, pressing his forehead against his, placing a kiss right between her eyebrows. " _Please,_ " it came out so tortured.

Then his lips found hers. They took her kiss, his arms circling her body to hold her to him. His mouth opened, hers following suit, and their tongues met with the deep passion they had when they'd first met. He felt the pressure release in his chest. She was kissing him back. She loved him and things would be okay. He kissed her with everything in him, every ounce of love devotion, and sadness that he had. The ferocity of it died down until they were in just a slow, sweet, tender liplock, and then slowly she pulled away, both of them breathless.

"I love you," he whispered, not knowing that this was the last time he'd ever touch her, ever hold her in his arms. If he'd known, he might have fought harder when she pulled from his embrace.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "But I'm not in love with you anymore." She placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth, then took a step back.


End file.
